Richard Dawkins
"The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all of fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, blood thirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticide, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully."
Steven Weinberg
Nobel Prize winning Physicist
"Religion is an insult to human dignity. With or without it, you’d have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, it takes religion."
Sean O’Casey
"Politics has slain its thousands, but religion has slain its tens of thousands."
Thomas Jefferson
"The priests of the different religious sects…dread the advance of science as witches do the approach of daylight, and scowl on the fatal harbinger announcing the subdivision of the duperies on which they live."
Mark Kohn
"To an evolutionary psychologist, the universal extravagance of religious rituals, with their cost in time, resources, pain and privation, should suggest as vividly as a mandrill’s bottom that religion may be adaptive."
George Carlin
"Religion has actually convinced people that there’s an invisible man — living in the sky — who watches everything you do, every minute of everyday. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these things, he has a special place full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever until the end of time…But he loves you!"
Victor Hugo
"There is in every village a torch ~ the teacher: and an extinguisher ~ the clergyman."
Wednesday, 29 August 2007
Monday, 16 July 2007
Red Birds
by the GreenMagi
I remember waking up that spring morn' in a naturally good humor. Looking out the window, my eyes fell upon a bird. The bird had landed on my fathers’ woodpile. It was a cardinal, with bright red feathers. The bird was so beautiful in contrast with the green grasses and wildflowers, growing around the woodpile.
The morning dew looked like thousands of tiny crystal sequins around a single rose. A rose so bold, it flies without roots. And into my memory, the red bird flew, and perched itself within a smile.
Then, on my way to work there was a great downpour. And there it was, like a dying flame in the rains. My beautiful red bird sat in just the spot to catch death. Wounded it sat, shaking off the rain, and afraid. Ruffled feathers and crest, not so sharp.
This bird was not bold, it was fearful of everything. My mind wandered to its nest as I steered my car away from its path, but in the very act I thought perhaps it would be best if I ended the red bird’s suffering. But no. Each moment of life is a blessing in itself. In a cold and dark universe, Life is to be celebrated; and I completed the swerve.
Then I thought I should move the bird onto the grass, so that its last moments might be a tad softer and less frightening. Then I passed by the best spot for turning around, because I would be late, and I had to behave responsibly. And responsible wasn’t pulling over to ease the passing of one dying bird.
Not much longer, when its death was sure, I cried for my failure. Through my tears I saw my true responsibility.
Two red birds. One made me smile and the other made me cry. One brought to my mind the beauty of life, the other revealed my own horrible nature and death. How I had confused my duty and the moment had passed. What better way could I have thanked the first than by showing kindness to the second? Will my perceived responsibilities one day make red birds out of people? One day to sacrifice family and self on duty’s sword.
Where is the balance? I can hardly save all the red birds!
The balance may be found in doing the right thing at the right time. The pentacle moment; turning off the road when its raining and when its not. My greatest duty is to myself, that I might make it to my grave with as few red birds as possible.
I remember waking up that spring morn' in a naturally good humor. Looking out the window, my eyes fell upon a bird. The bird had landed on my fathers’ woodpile. It was a cardinal, with bright red feathers. The bird was so beautiful in contrast with the green grasses and wildflowers, growing around the woodpile.
The morning dew looked like thousands of tiny crystal sequins around a single rose. A rose so bold, it flies without roots. And into my memory, the red bird flew, and perched itself within a smile.
Then, on my way to work there was a great downpour. And there it was, like a dying flame in the rains. My beautiful red bird sat in just the spot to catch death. Wounded it sat, shaking off the rain, and afraid. Ruffled feathers and crest, not so sharp.
This bird was not bold, it was fearful of everything. My mind wandered to its nest as I steered my car away from its path, but in the very act I thought perhaps it would be best if I ended the red bird’s suffering. But no. Each moment of life is a blessing in itself. In a cold and dark universe, Life is to be celebrated; and I completed the swerve.
Then I thought I should move the bird onto the grass, so that its last moments might be a tad softer and less frightening. Then I passed by the best spot for turning around, because I would be late, and I had to behave responsibly. And responsible wasn’t pulling over to ease the passing of one dying bird.
Not much longer, when its death was sure, I cried for my failure. Through my tears I saw my true responsibility.
Two red birds. One made me smile and the other made me cry. One brought to my mind the beauty of life, the other revealed my own horrible nature and death. How I had confused my duty and the moment had passed. What better way could I have thanked the first than by showing kindness to the second? Will my perceived responsibilities one day make red birds out of people? One day to sacrifice family and self on duty’s sword.
Where is the balance? I can hardly save all the red birds!
The balance may be found in doing the right thing at the right time. The pentacle moment; turning off the road when its raining and when its not. My greatest duty is to myself, that I might make it to my grave with as few red birds as possible.
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
The World According to Mr. Rodgers
by Dr. Fred Rogers
Won’t You Be My Neighbor
I have always wanted to have a neighbor
Just like you!
I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you…
So let’s make the most of this beautiful day;
Since we’re together we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won’t you be my neighbor?
Excerpt from: The World According to Mr. Rodgers
It’s not the honors and the prizes and the fancy outsides of life that ultimately nourish our souls. It’s the knowing that we can be trusted, that we never have to fear the truth, that the bedrock of our very being is firm.
Won’t You Be My Neighbor
I have always wanted to have a neighbor
Just like you!
I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you…
So let’s make the most of this beautiful day;
Since we’re together we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won’t you be my neighbor?
Excerpt from: The World According to Mr. Rodgers
It’s not the honors and the prizes and the fancy outsides of life that ultimately nourish our souls. It’s the knowing that we can be trusted, that we never have to fear the truth, that the bedrock of our very being is firm.
Contemplating Suicide
by An Anonymous Chinese Boy (Circa 30 BCE)
My tears fell and fell
And I went on sobbing and sobbing
In winter I have no great coat
Nor in the Summer, thin cloths.
It is no pleasure to be alive.
I had rather quickly leave the earth
And go beneath the Yellow Springs.
The Spring winds blow
And the grass is growing green.
In the third month ~ silkworms and mulberries,
In the sixth month ~ the melon harvest.
I went out with the melon harvest.
I went out with the melon cart
And just as I was coming home
The melon cart turned over.
The people who came to help me were few,
But the people who ate the melons were many,
All they left me were the stalks ~
To take home as fast as I could
My brother- and sister-in-law were harsh.
They asked me all sorts of awful questions.
Why does everyone in the village hate me?
I want to write a letter and send it to
To my mother and father under the earth,
And tell them I can’t go on any longer
Living with my brother- and sister-in-law.
My tears fell and fell
And I went on sobbing and sobbing
In winter I have no great coat
Nor in the Summer, thin cloths.
It is no pleasure to be alive.
I had rather quickly leave the earth
And go beneath the Yellow Springs.
The Spring winds blow
And the grass is growing green.
In the third month ~ silkworms and mulberries,
In the sixth month ~ the melon harvest.
I went out with the melon harvest.
I went out with the melon cart
And just as I was coming home
The melon cart turned over.
The people who came to help me were few,
But the people who ate the melons were many,
All they left me were the stalks ~
To take home as fast as I could
My brother- and sister-in-law were harsh.
They asked me all sorts of awful questions.
Why does everyone in the village hate me?
I want to write a letter and send it to
To my mother and father under the earth,
And tell them I can’t go on any longer
Living with my brother- and sister-in-law.
The Arrow & the Song
by H.W. Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly if flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song.
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroken;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly if flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song.
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroken;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
Where Secrets Lie...
The Day is Done
by H.W. Longfellow
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and belonging,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles rain.
Come read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall sooth this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time.
Who Hath a Book
by Wilbur D. Nesbit
Who hath a book
Has friends at hand.
And gold and gear
At his command;
And rich estates,
If he but look,
Are held by him
Who hath a book.
Who hath a book
Has but to read
And he may be
A king indeed;
His kingdom is
His inglenook;
All this is his
Who hath a book.
A Wise Old Owl
by Anonymous
A wise old owl lived in an oak;
The more he saw the less he spoke;
The less he spoke the more he heard:
Why can’t we all be like that bird.
by H.W. Longfellow
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and belonging,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles rain.
Come read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall sooth this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of time.
Who Hath a Book
by Wilbur D. Nesbit
Who hath a book
Has friends at hand.
And gold and gear
At his command;
And rich estates,
If he but look,
Are held by him
Who hath a book.
Who hath a book
Has but to read
And he may be
A king indeed;
His kingdom is
His inglenook;
All this is his
Who hath a book.
A Wise Old Owl
by Anonymous
A wise old owl lived in an oak;
The more he saw the less he spoke;
The less he spoke the more he heard:
Why can’t we all be like that bird.
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Selecting a Mistress...
Benjamin Franklin ~ Philadelphia, 25 June 1745
Advising a young man as to the selecting of a Mistress.
My dear Friend,
I know of no medicine fit to diminish the violent natural inclinations you mention; and if I did; I think I should not communicate it to you. Marriage is the proper remedy. It is the most natural state of man, and therefore the state in which you are most likely to find solid happiness. Your reasons against entering into it at present appear to me not well founded. The circumstantial advantages you have in view by postponing it, are not only uncertain, but they are small in comparison with that of the thing itself, the being married and settled. It is the man and woman united that make the complete human being. Separate, she wants his force of body and strength of reason; he, her softness, sensibility and acute discernment. Together they are more likely to succeed in the world.
A single man has not nearly the value he would have in the state of union. He is an incomplete animal. He resembles the odd half of a pair of scissors. If you get a prudent, healthy wife, your industry in your profession, with her good company, will be a fortune sufficient.
But if you will not take this counsel and persist in thinking a commerce with the sex inevitable, then I repeat my former advice, that in all your amours you should prefer old women to young ones.
You call this a paradox and demand my reasons. They are these:
1. Because they have more knowledge of the world, and their minds are better stored with observations, their conversation is more improving, and more lastingly agreeable.
2. Because when women cease to be handsome they study to be good. To maintain their influence over men, they supply the diminution of beauty by an augmentation of utility. They learn to do a thousand services small and great, and are most tender and useful of friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old woman who is not also a good woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produced may be attended with much Inconvenience.
4. Because thro’ more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclin’d to excuse an old woman who would kindly take care of a young man, form his Manners by her good counsels, and prevent his ruining his Health among mercenary Prostitutes.
5. Because in every animal that walks upright, the deficiency of the fluids that fill the muscles appears first in the highest part: The face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the neck; then the Breasts and arms; the Lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every knack being by practice capable of improvement.
6. Because the sin is less. The debauching of a virgin may be her Ruin, and make her for life unhappy.
7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young girl miserable may give you frequently bitter reflections; non of which can attend the making of an old woman happy.
8thly and Lastly. They are so grateful!!!
Thus much for my Paradox. But still I advise you to marry directly; being sincerely affectionate friend.
Advising a young man as to the selecting of a Mistress.
My dear Friend,
I know of no medicine fit to diminish the violent natural inclinations you mention; and if I did; I think I should not communicate it to you. Marriage is the proper remedy. It is the most natural state of man, and therefore the state in which you are most likely to find solid happiness. Your reasons against entering into it at present appear to me not well founded. The circumstantial advantages you have in view by postponing it, are not only uncertain, but they are small in comparison with that of the thing itself, the being married and settled. It is the man and woman united that make the complete human being. Separate, she wants his force of body and strength of reason; he, her softness, sensibility and acute discernment. Together they are more likely to succeed in the world.
A single man has not nearly the value he would have in the state of union. He is an incomplete animal. He resembles the odd half of a pair of scissors. If you get a prudent, healthy wife, your industry in your profession, with her good company, will be a fortune sufficient.
But if you will not take this counsel and persist in thinking a commerce with the sex inevitable, then I repeat my former advice, that in all your amours you should prefer old women to young ones.
You call this a paradox and demand my reasons. They are these:
1. Because they have more knowledge of the world, and their minds are better stored with observations, their conversation is more improving, and more lastingly agreeable.
2. Because when women cease to be handsome they study to be good. To maintain their influence over men, they supply the diminution of beauty by an augmentation of utility. They learn to do a thousand services small and great, and are most tender and useful of friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old woman who is not also a good woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produced may be attended with much Inconvenience.
4. Because thro’ more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclin’d to excuse an old woman who would kindly take care of a young man, form his Manners by her good counsels, and prevent his ruining his Health among mercenary Prostitutes.
5. Because in every animal that walks upright, the deficiency of the fluids that fill the muscles appears first in the highest part: The face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the neck; then the Breasts and arms; the Lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every knack being by practice capable of improvement.
6. Because the sin is less. The debauching of a virgin may be her Ruin, and make her for life unhappy.
7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young girl miserable may give you frequently bitter reflections; non of which can attend the making of an old woman happy.
8thly and Lastly. They are so grateful!!!
Thus much for my Paradox. But still I advise you to marry directly; being sincerely affectionate friend.
Friday, 29 June 2007
A Poison Tree
by William Blake
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath – my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not – my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and Morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smile,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole.
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath – my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not – my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and Morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smile,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole.
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree
Thursday, 28 June 2007
The Prophet
by Kehlil Gibran
The Prophet on Friendship
…And let your best be for your friend
If he must know the ebb of your tide,
Let him know your flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughing and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for your peace…
The Profit on Love
When Love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter you dreams
as the north wind lays waste to the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as his is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your heighth
and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth…
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’ peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter,
And weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the coarse of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your coarse.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love, and must have desires, let these be your desires;
To melt and be like a running brook that sings it’s melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise upon your lips.
The Prophet on Friendship
…And let your best be for your friend
If he must know the ebb of your tide,
Let him know your flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughing and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for your peace…
The Profit on Love
When Love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter you dreams
as the north wind lays waste to the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as his is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your heighth
and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth…
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’ peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter,
And weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the coarse of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your coarse.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love, and must have desires, let these be your desires;
To melt and be like a running brook that sings it’s melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise upon your lips.
Monday, 25 June 2007
Five Rings
by Miyamoto Muashi (1643)
Miyamoto Musahi was a peerless samurai during the peak of Japan’s 1000 year age of war. The Tokagawa Shogunate had unified Japan. The Five rings, as well as the Art of War, is the result of a millennia of human warfare and tactics. The words of our wise demand careful reflection.
Miyamoto Musahi set aside his swords, the status of the samurai (to cut and leave) after attaining enlightenment. But as man is likely to kill man in his endless quest to power, these are the rules to change warfare from the blunt tool of rage into the exact blade of the surgeon.
‘Distinguishing five courses, in order to explain their principles in individual sections, I have written this Book in five Schools/Scrolls, entitled; Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Emptiness (Zen-Buddhist).
1. The Earth scroll is an outline of the science of martial arts. The true science of martial arts cannot be attained through mastery of sword alone. Know first the small by way of the great, from the shallow to the deep. Because, a strait path levels the contour of the Earth.
2. The Water scroll is taken as a basic point of reference. Water conforms to the shape of the vessel, square or round; a drop or an ocean. Purity.
3. The Fire scroll is on battle. Fire may be great or small and has a sense of violence. The way to battle is the same whether between two individuals or two armies. A monumental icon from a miniature model. To know the myriad things by means of a single thing is a principle of the art.
4. The Wind scroll is a contrast and comparison of the various schools of the martial art. Wind is “Style” or “Manner.” Unless you really understand others, you can hardly understand your own self-understanding.
5. The Empty Scroll is Fifth and Last.'
Miyamoto Musahi was a peerless samurai during the peak of Japan’s 1000 year age of war. The Tokagawa Shogunate had unified Japan. The Five rings, as well as the Art of War, is the result of a millennia of human warfare and tactics. The words of our wise demand careful reflection.
Miyamoto Musahi set aside his swords, the status of the samurai (to cut and leave) after attaining enlightenment. But as man is likely to kill man in his endless quest to power, these are the rules to change warfare from the blunt tool of rage into the exact blade of the surgeon.
‘Distinguishing five courses, in order to explain their principles in individual sections, I have written this Book in five Schools/Scrolls, entitled; Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, and Emptiness (Zen-Buddhist).
1. The Earth scroll is an outline of the science of martial arts. The true science of martial arts cannot be attained through mastery of sword alone. Know first the small by way of the great, from the shallow to the deep. Because, a strait path levels the contour of the Earth.
2. The Water scroll is taken as a basic point of reference. Water conforms to the shape of the vessel, square or round; a drop or an ocean. Purity.
3. The Fire scroll is on battle. Fire may be great or small and has a sense of violence. The way to battle is the same whether between two individuals or two armies. A monumental icon from a miniature model. To know the myriad things by means of a single thing is a principle of the art.
4. The Wind scroll is a contrast and comparison of the various schools of the martial art. Wind is “Style” or “Manner.” Unless you really understand others, you can hardly understand your own self-understanding.
5. The Empty Scroll is Fifth and Last.'
5 Rings - the Earth scroll
on rhythm
Rhythm is something that exists in everything, but the rhythms of martial arts in particular are difficult to master without practice.
Rhythm is manifested in the World in such things as dance and music, pipes and strings. These are all harmonious rhythms.
In the field of martial arts, there are rhythms and harmonies in archery, gunnery, and even horsemanship. In all arts and sciences, rhythm is not to be ignored.
There is even rhythm in being empty.
In the professional life of a warrior, there are rhythms of rising to office and rhythms of stepping down, rhythms of fulfillment and rhythms of disappointment.
In the field of commerce, there are rhythms of becoming rich and rhythms of losing one’s fortunes.
Harmony and disharmony in rhythms occur in every walk of life. It is imperative to distinguish between (carefully) the rhythms of flourishing and the rhythms of decline in every single thing.
The rhythms of martial arts are varied.
First, know the right rhythms, and discern the appropriate rhythms from among great and small and slow and fast rhythms. Know the rhythms of spatial relations, and know the rhythms of reversal. These matters are specialties of martial science. Unless you understand these rhythms of reversal, your martial artistry will not be reliable.
The way to win a battle according to Military science is to know the rhythms of the specific opponents, and use the rhythms that your opponents do not expect, producing formless rhythms from rhythms of wisdom.
Rhythm is something that exists in everything, but the rhythms of martial arts in particular are difficult to master without practice.
Rhythm is manifested in the World in such things as dance and music, pipes and strings. These are all harmonious rhythms.
In the field of martial arts, there are rhythms and harmonies in archery, gunnery, and even horsemanship. In all arts and sciences, rhythm is not to be ignored.
There is even rhythm in being empty.
In the professional life of a warrior, there are rhythms of rising to office and rhythms of stepping down, rhythms of fulfillment and rhythms of disappointment.
In the field of commerce, there are rhythms of becoming rich and rhythms of losing one’s fortunes.
Harmony and disharmony in rhythms occur in every walk of life. It is imperative to distinguish between (carefully) the rhythms of flourishing and the rhythms of decline in every single thing.
The rhythms of martial arts are varied.
First, know the right rhythms, and discern the appropriate rhythms from among great and small and slow and fast rhythms. Know the rhythms of spatial relations, and know the rhythms of reversal. These matters are specialties of martial science. Unless you understand these rhythms of reversal, your martial artistry will not be reliable.
The way to win a battle according to Military science is to know the rhythms of the specific opponents, and use the rhythms that your opponents do not expect, producing formless rhythms from rhythms of wisdom.
5 Rings - the Water scroll
on state of mind
In the science of martial arts, the state of mind should remain the same as normal. In ordinary circumstances as well as when practicing martial arts, let there be no change at all. ~ with the mind open and direct, neither tense nor lax, centering the mind so that there is no imbalance, calmly relax your mind and savor this moment of ease thoroughly so that the relaxation does not stop its relaxation for even an instant.
Even when still your mind is not still; even when hurried, your mind is not hurried. The mind is not dragged by the body, the body is not dragged by the mind. Pay attention to the mind, not the body. Let there be neither insufficiency nor excess in your mind. Even if superficially weak-hearted, be inwardly strong-hearted, and do not let others see into your mind. It is essential for those who are physically small to know what it is like to be large, and visa~versa; whether physically small or large, it is essential to keep your mind free from such biased subjectivism.
Let your inner mind be unclouded and open, placing your intellect on a broad plane. It is essential to polish the intellect and mind diligently. Once you have sharpened your intellect to the point where you can see whatever in the world is true or not, where you can tell whatever is good or bad, and when you are experienced in various fields and are incapable of being fooled at all by people of the world, then you mind will become imbued with the knowledge and wisdom of the art of war.
There is something special about the knowledge of the art of war. It is imperative to master the principles of the art of war and learn to be unmoved in mind even in the heart of battle…
In the science of martial arts, the state of mind should remain the same as normal. In ordinary circumstances as well as when practicing martial arts, let there be no change at all. ~ with the mind open and direct, neither tense nor lax, centering the mind so that there is no imbalance, calmly relax your mind and savor this moment of ease thoroughly so that the relaxation does not stop its relaxation for even an instant.
Even when still your mind is not still; even when hurried, your mind is not hurried. The mind is not dragged by the body, the body is not dragged by the mind. Pay attention to the mind, not the body. Let there be neither insufficiency nor excess in your mind. Even if superficially weak-hearted, be inwardly strong-hearted, and do not let others see into your mind. It is essential for those who are physically small to know what it is like to be large, and visa~versa; whether physically small or large, it is essential to keep your mind free from such biased subjectivism.
Let your inner mind be unclouded and open, placing your intellect on a broad plane. It is essential to polish the intellect and mind diligently. Once you have sharpened your intellect to the point where you can see whatever in the world is true or not, where you can tell whatever is good or bad, and when you are experienced in various fields and are incapable of being fooled at all by people of the world, then you mind will become imbued with the knowledge and wisdom of the art of war.
There is something special about the knowledge of the art of war. It is imperative to master the principles of the art of war and learn to be unmoved in mind even in the heart of battle…
5 Rings - the Fire scroll
on crossing a ford
When you cross a sea, there are places called straits. Also, places where you cross a sea even twelve or fifteen miles wide are called fords. In going through the human world as well, in the course of a lifetime there will be many points that could be called crossing a ford.
On the sea lanes, knowing where the fords are, knowing the state of the boat, knowing the weather, even without launching companion boats, you adapt to the state of time, sometimes even getting favorable winds, knowing that even if the wind changes you can still reach port by oar, you take command of the ship and cross the ford.
With that attitude, in passing through the human world you should also have a since of crossing a ford in emergency.
In the martial arts, in the mist of battle, it is also essential to “cross the ford.” Sensing the state of enemies and opponents, aware of your own mastery, you cross the ford by means of the appropriate principles, just as the skilled captain goes over the sea~lane.
Having crossed over the ford, furthermore, there is a peace of mind. To “cross a ford,” put the adversary in a weak position and get the jump yourself; then you will generally quickly prevail. Whether in large-scale military science or individual martial arts, the sense of crossing a ford is essential. It should be savored thoroughly.
When you cross a sea, there are places called straits. Also, places where you cross a sea even twelve or fifteen miles wide are called fords. In going through the human world as well, in the course of a lifetime there will be many points that could be called crossing a ford.
On the sea lanes, knowing where the fords are, knowing the state of the boat, knowing the weather, even without launching companion boats, you adapt to the state of time, sometimes even getting favorable winds, knowing that even if the wind changes you can still reach port by oar, you take command of the ship and cross the ford.
With that attitude, in passing through the human world you should also have a since of crossing a ford in emergency.
In the martial arts, in the mist of battle, it is also essential to “cross the ford.” Sensing the state of enemies and opponents, aware of your own mastery, you cross the ford by means of the appropriate principles, just as the skilled captain goes over the sea~lane.
Having crossed over the ford, furthermore, there is a peace of mind. To “cross a ford,” put the adversary in a weak position and get the jump yourself; then you will generally quickly prevail. Whether in large-scale military science or individual martial arts, the sense of crossing a ford is essential. It should be savored thoroughly.
5 Rings - the Wind scroll
on the focus of the eyes
The focus of the eyes depends on the school: there are those who fix their eyes on the opponents’ sword, and there are also those that fix their eyes on the opponents’ face, and hand, and feet, and so on. When you try and fix your eyes on some particular point, there is a sense of distraction, and this becomes what is known as affliction in the martial arts.
Those playing games may not keep their eye on the ball, but they can steal, kick, dribble, throw, etc., because when one is thoroughly practiced in something, it is not necessary to look deliberately. In the arts of jugglers too, when they are practiced in the techniques, they can balance a door on the nose and juggle several swords at once, all without deliberately watching; since they are involved in the practice all the time, they see what is going on spontaneously.
In the context of the science of martial arts as well, when you become familiar with each adversary perceive the degree of seriousness of peoples minds, and are able to practice the science effectively, you can see even the distance and speed of a sword. Generally speaking, the focus of the eyes in martial arts is on the hearts and minds of the people involved.
When it comes to large-scale military science, the eyes are also focused on the state of the opposing troops.
Of two ways of perception, observing and seeing, the observing eye is stronger, perceiving the heart and mind of the adversary, seeing the state of the situation, focusing the eyes broadly, perceiving the conditions for battle, perceiving the strengths and weaknesses of the occasion, concentrating on seizing victory with precision.
Whether in large or small scale military science, there is no narrow focus of the vision. As I have already written, by finicky narrowness of focus, you forget about bigger things and get confused, thus allowing certain victory to escape you. This principle requires/demands careful reflection and thorough practice.
The focus of the eyes depends on the school: there are those who fix their eyes on the opponents’ sword, and there are also those that fix their eyes on the opponents’ face, and hand, and feet, and so on. When you try and fix your eyes on some particular point, there is a sense of distraction, and this becomes what is known as affliction in the martial arts.
Those playing games may not keep their eye on the ball, but they can steal, kick, dribble, throw, etc., because when one is thoroughly practiced in something, it is not necessary to look deliberately. In the arts of jugglers too, when they are practiced in the techniques, they can balance a door on the nose and juggle several swords at once, all without deliberately watching; since they are involved in the practice all the time, they see what is going on spontaneously.
In the context of the science of martial arts as well, when you become familiar with each adversary perceive the degree of seriousness of peoples minds, and are able to practice the science effectively, you can see even the distance and speed of a sword. Generally speaking, the focus of the eyes in martial arts is on the hearts and minds of the people involved.
When it comes to large-scale military science, the eyes are also focused on the state of the opposing troops.
Of two ways of perception, observing and seeing, the observing eye is stronger, perceiving the heart and mind of the adversary, seeing the state of the situation, focusing the eyes broadly, perceiving the conditions for battle, perceiving the strengths and weaknesses of the occasion, concentrating on seizing victory with precision.
Whether in large or small scale military science, there is no narrow focus of the vision. As I have already written, by finicky narrowness of focus, you forget about bigger things and get confused, thus allowing certain victory to escape you. This principle requires/demands careful reflection and thorough practice.
Solitude
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing and the hills will answer;
Sigh, and it is lost on the air.
The echos bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink when voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing and the hills will answer;
Sigh, and it is lost on the air.
The echos bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink when voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
A Psalm of Life
by Henry W. Longfellow
What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist.
Tell me not, in mornful numbers,
'Life is but an empty dream!'
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not it's goal;
'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us further than today.
Art is long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act, ~ act in the living present!
Heart within, and god(s) o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist.
Tell me not, in mornful numbers,
'Life is but an empty dream!'
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not it's goal;
'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us further than today.
Art is long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead past bury its dead!
Act, ~ act in the living present!
Heart within, and god(s) o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
The Cherry Now
by A. E. Houseman (1859~1936) from;
A Shropshire Lad II: Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
A Shropshire Lad II: Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
On Religion…
Ambrose Bierce wrote,
"Religion is a daughter of hope and fear, explaining to ignorance the nature of the unknowable."
Karl Marx stated,
"Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opiate of the people."
Emile Durkheim said,
"A religion is a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden ~ beleifs and practices which unite into one single moral community called a Church, all those who adhere to them."
Edward Tylor corresponded,
"It seems best to fall back at once on this essential source, and simply claim, as a minimum definition of religion, the belief in Spiritual beings.”
In 1764 Voltaire declared,
“What can we say to a man who tells you that he would rather obey God than men, and that therefore he is sure to go to heaven for butchering you? Even the law is impotent against these acts of rage; it is like reading a court decree to a raving maniac.”
"Religion is a daughter of hope and fear, explaining to ignorance the nature of the unknowable."
Karl Marx stated,
"Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, just as it is the spirit of a spiritless situation. It is the opiate of the people."
Emile Durkheim said,
"A religion is a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden ~ beleifs and practices which unite into one single moral community called a Church, all those who adhere to them."
Edward Tylor corresponded,
"It seems best to fall back at once on this essential source, and simply claim, as a minimum definition of religion, the belief in Spiritual beings.”
In 1764 Voltaire declared,
“What can we say to a man who tells you that he would rather obey God than men, and that therefore he is sure to go to heaven for butchering you? Even the law is impotent against these acts of rage; it is like reading a court decree to a raving maniac.”
Sunday, 24 June 2007
On Death...
Seneca said,
“We must…consider our last hour, not as the punishment, but as the law of nature…It is as to fear old age. Nay, as to fear life itself; for he that would not die, ought not to live, since death is a condition of life. Besides that, it is a madness to fear a thing that is certain; for where there is no doubt, there is no place for fear.”
William Hazlitt said,
“Perhaps the best cure for the fear of death is to reflect that life has a beginning as well as an end. There was a time when we were not: this gives us no concern ~ why then should it trouble us that a time will come when we shall cease to be? I have no wish to be alive a hundred years ago…why should I regret and lay it so much to heart that I shall not be alive 100 years hence, in the reign of I cannot tell whom?
Leonardo da Vinci said,
“As a well~spent day brings good sleep, so life well used brings happy death.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson said,
"Quotation Confesses Inferiority"
Greenmagi said,
Death
~~~~~~~~~
How about a bit of Sunshine,
To funk up this dismal blog line?
What is there to fear from nothing?
Let the undertaker do his stuffing.
With eyes stitched and mouth sown up,
It’s into the ground for worms to sup.
Or, if you fear the cold dark earth,
Get all fired up in a potter’s hearth.
Where you’ll rest all dry and dusty,
Until your forgotten, dropped, and busty!
It’s better still to fade away,
Than to lie awaiting judgment day.
Wither it's twelve of one or a baker's other,
No one knows, so what’s the bother?
As for us, we shall not wait,
To toil and squirm and dread our fates.
As for us, another beer,
We have not a thing to fear!
Ghosts, Gods, and Honest Lawyers,
Are tales by old wives to quite bawlers…
“We must…consider our last hour, not as the punishment, but as the law of nature…It is as to fear old age. Nay, as to fear life itself; for he that would not die, ought not to live, since death is a condition of life. Besides that, it is a madness to fear a thing that is certain; for where there is no doubt, there is no place for fear.”
William Hazlitt said,
“Perhaps the best cure for the fear of death is to reflect that life has a beginning as well as an end. There was a time when we were not: this gives us no concern ~ why then should it trouble us that a time will come when we shall cease to be? I have no wish to be alive a hundred years ago…why should I regret and lay it so much to heart that I shall not be alive 100 years hence, in the reign of I cannot tell whom?
Leonardo da Vinci said,
“As a well~spent day brings good sleep, so life well used brings happy death.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson said,
"Quotation Confesses Inferiority"
Greenmagi said,
Death
~~~~~~~~~
How about a bit of Sunshine,
To funk up this dismal blog line?
What is there to fear from nothing?
Let the undertaker do his stuffing.
With eyes stitched and mouth sown up,
It’s into the ground for worms to sup.
Or, if you fear the cold dark earth,
Get all fired up in a potter’s hearth.
Where you’ll rest all dry and dusty,
Until your forgotten, dropped, and busty!
It’s better still to fade away,
Than to lie awaiting judgment day.
Wither it's twelve of one or a baker's other,
No one knows, so what’s the bother?
As for us, we shall not wait,
To toil and squirm and dread our fates.
As for us, another beer,
We have not a thing to fear!
Ghosts, Gods, and Honest Lawyers,
Are tales by old wives to quite bawlers…
2 B Ore knot 2 B
Hamlet – William Shakespeare
…To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep ~
No more, an by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the 1000 natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep ~
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause; there’s the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the laws delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin; who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,…
…To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep ~
No more, an by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the 1000 natural shocks
That flesh is heir to; ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep ~
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause; there’s the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the laws delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin; who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,…
How Did You Die?
By Edmund Vance Cooke (1866-1932)
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
with a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
with a craven soul and fearful?
Oh a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
but only how did you take it?
You are beaten to the earth? Well, well, what’s that?
come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
but to lie there ~ that’s disgrace.
The harder your thrown, why the higher you bounce;
be proud of you blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that your licked that counts;
it’s how did you fight and why?
And though you be done to death, what then?
if you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
why the critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
and whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact you’re dead that counts,
but only, how did you die?
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
with a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
with a craven soul and fearful?
Oh a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
but only how did you take it?
You are beaten to the earth? Well, well, what’s that?
come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
but to lie there ~ that’s disgrace.
The harder your thrown, why the higher you bounce;
be proud of you blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that your licked that counts;
it’s how did you fight and why?
And though you be done to death, what then?
if you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
why the critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
and whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact you’re dead that counts,
but only, how did you die?
Count That Day Lost
by George Eliot
If you sit down at set of sun
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him that heard,
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went ~
Then you man count that day well spent.
But if, through the livelong day,
You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay ~
If, through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face~
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost~
Then count that day as worse than lost.
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him that heard,
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went ~
Then you man count that day well spent.
But if, through the livelong day,
You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay ~
If, through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face~
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost~
Then count that day as worse than lost.
A Buddist Parable
A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one black, one white, little by little started to gnaw away at the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!
Two mice, one black, one white, little by little started to gnaw away at the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!
Saturday, 23 June 2007
The Appointment in Samarra - an Arabian Folk Story
by W. Somerset Maugham
Death Speaks: There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the market-place I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture; now, lend me your horse, and I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went.
Then the merchant went down to the market-place and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.
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